


all this relief, it's the oddest thing

by britpop



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:18:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britpop/pseuds/britpop
Summary: Taking place before the release of Plastic Beach while only Murdoc and 2D resided on the beach, detailing the events that occurred between the two before Plastic Beach was beginning to be recorded. Murdoc, struggling to accept his sexuality, forcibly used 2D as his means of expression for it. 2D uses the pain he feels from these acts to record 'The Fall.'





	1. your lover will hate you, despair and shut up

**Author's Note:**

> well this is my first fic back from hiatus and if you'd read anything iv ever done i like to write things that are, generally, emotionally heavy. but this is a heavy one that is rather, er, morally abhorrent as opposed to substance abuse and bad mental states. i think people doubt murdoc's awfulness, but i don't ! anyways, this may or may not become a series but either way - welcome. to this. my first gorillaz fic. i hope you enjoy it, please proceed with caution if you've issues with sexual assault etc ... title is from xiu xiu's "apistat commander" 
> 
> \- L x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song title from a knife in the sun by xiu xiu. i don't think i intended this to be a series but. wee hee.  
> it only gets worse from here !
> 
> L x

There isn’t much he can do to deny the reason why it is women won’t satisfy him, it’s more of a refusal to believe in the reason. The facts of the matter are, that he could experience any amount of sexual contact with a female body that he wanted, but at the end of the day the jagged, jutted out curves of a man’s body were far more satisfying than a woman’s.  
He was always one for the grimier sides of life, which must play a part in his desire for rather sickly looking men. Those with deep, dark rings around their eyes, skinny to the bone, and a demeanor indicating death is approaching their doorstep. And it’s always been like this. He accepts that there is nothing to do that can change it, and nothing that he could have done to prevent it, either. But he had to have something.  
As he walked down the ever expanding hallway, he glanced from room to room running over the current notion in head til death. 

“Well, it’s about eight in the afternoon …” He muttered to himself, taking a quick glance at his watch. “He should have already filled himself up to the point of unconsciousness by now, I’d think.” 

The hall led him down a staircase, one which spiraled down to the submarine like room beneath the overall architecture. He let out a loud sigh as he turned the knob to the white door, where he found 2-D, curled up under innumerable covers horizontally across the red-pink mattress. 

“Stu, Stu, Stu …” He sung under his breath, quietly closing the door behind him and making his way towards the hidden boy under the bed. His hand moved down to his belt, already undone, but pulled it out from its rings smoothly as he watched the uneven breathing of him. “Stu, Stu, Stu …” 

He stood there at the bed for a moment, running over how it is he could possibly wake him up from his deep pill-induced hibernation. Not with much thought, he yanked the remaining leather from the cloth and yielded it behind his shoulder to deliver a sharp, audible smack to the side of the boy’s face. 

The white of his cheek turned pink almost immediately, yet he only stirred awake slowly. He was waiting for the follow up shouting, but it never came. So he spoke.  
“Please don’t hurt me.” He mumbled, scooting his frail body up towards the upper right corner of the bed, hiding his face in the sheet. “I don’t want this right now.”  
2-D was in a ball, in peach colored briefs, and Murdoc could see his body painted with cigarette burns, bruises, and cuts from broken bottles. His skin a litany of years of abuse, but then there were those bones. As he held his belt in his hands, he looked at the jagged ribs of the boy that were like the spikes of a mountain top.  
He wanted him, but knew he didn’t. But that hadn’t stopped him before, years ago, in those catatonic days when he had nothing else to do but use his body for his own gain. He still didn’t regret it, but only because he knew 2-D didn’t remember any of what happened.

There had been multiple times where, during those ten hours of community service to ‘take care’ of Stu, he had slid himself inside his virtually dead body on his stained couch. He remembers it was warm, he often forgot the blue haired boy was still alive, and the tight heat inside him almost made him feel sympathetic for the boy.  
The boy whose neck was bent at an irregular angle so his closed eyes were tilted upwards, chin pressing against the arm of the couch as he almost feverishly pressed himself inside him.  
At times, Stuart would make noises that implicated pain - and at other times the little noises were small moans. He never noticed if Stu was hard or not, he had assumed that a catatonic body couldn’t process pleasure or pain. So it didn’t matter. 

But after that first time no woman felt the same, and the extreme lengths he would go to impress women became more of an extreme manner of convincing himself that he wanted it. And so now he’s stood watching Stu helpless again, but this time he was conscious. This time maybe he would try something more … “Delicate.” 

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a sissy, Pot !” He shouted, grabbing onto his upper arm and yanking him up - a loud pop sounding immediately after.  
“Murdoc, stop it, stop it, Murdoc.” He whined as his body moved like a sack towards him, “What could you even want from me at this time ?” He asked, eyes still closed before he moved his head upwards to look at Murdoc, who was still holding the belt but was now beginning to fasten it around his neck to mimic a collar.  
“Oh, no, oh, Murdoc, not this … I’ve just woken … I don’t, why ? Why are we doin’ this ?” He continued to whine, shaking his head slowly but becoming dizzy by the movement.  
“I just want to talk with you, I just want to have a fucking conversation with you, Dents. Why do you always have to get yourself in a fucking riot about everything, fucking take some of your, fucking.” Murdoc stumbled over his words as he kept hold of the end of the belt, moving to fumble through 2d’s bedside drawer and find a bottle. 

He tilted his chin up, popping open the bottle and pouring a decent amount of a mixture of pills into his mouth. Stu struggled with swallowing them all, and gagged slightly at the raw taste.  
“What have I just spilled down your throat just now, 2-D? What is this shit?” He asked, holding the bottle up to examine the cocktail of pills.  
“Eh, uh, eh, eh … Uh, Hydrocodone … you know, uh … Valium, Percocet … I don’t, eh.” He rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes tightly. “What’re you, why are you here, Murdoc ? What do you need ? I can’t … What’s this ?” He asked, running his fingertips against the leather. 

“Murdoc, have you got me on a colla’ ? Why have you got me on a colla’ ? I’m already a dog enough as it is … I …” His face looked absolutely forlorn, eyebrows furrowed in a way that made him seem pathetic.  
“Now, now, don’t look so glum, chum. Stiff upper lip, c’mon, don’t be a twat.” Murdoc tugged on the makeshift leash upwards, forcing 2-D to look up at him. “I know you can see me. Now just shut yourself up, will you?” He muttered as his eyes trailed down bruises and cigarette burns down his body, and after a moment, his fingers followed his eyes down to Stuart’s briefs.

“Oh, ohh no. Murdoc, why’ve you gotta do this, Murdoc ? Do you know what you’re doin’ ?” He whimpered, moving to tap on his head with his fingers anxiously.  
“Don’t question me, I know what I’m doing this has nothing - and I mean - nothing to do with you, Dents.” He spat back at him, leaving the belt to go limp beside 2-D’s abdomen and began to take off his own jeans, much to Stu’s panic.  
“Murdoc, I don’t know what it is you’ve got in your head now but please don’t, it isn’t a thing either of us want, you … You’re not … This isn’t something you want, you’re just drunk.” Stu nearly begged, scooting back on the bed with his hands pressed firmly against the edge of the bed.  
“Oh, what do you know, Dents ? You’re dense. What do you know about what I want ?” He retorted, now fully nude, and despite Stuart’s frantic movements against the headboard and towards the edge of the bed, pressed his body against his. “Just come here, won’t you ? Just stop moving, you fucking pansy.” He demanded. 

2-D let out a long whine as he felt Murdoc’s crotch against his and closed his eyes as tightly as possible. He felt his briefs being peeled off his body and heard a huff of relief from the other.  
The rest was fairly hidden from him, he kept his eyes closed as Murdoc licked and sucked at his skin like a treat and ran his rough fingers against his nipples. 

“Murdoc, Murdoc, look, we don’t … I don’t want this, you don’t want this, you’re hurting me.”  
“Oh, shut up. Shut your mouth. It wouldn’t be your first time, idiot.” He said as he began to fix Stu’s legs at his hips, fingers in his own mouth.  
“What do you mean, ‘wouldn’t be my first time?’” He demanded, eyes flying open and staring at him with a flare of anger. “I’ve not had this happen before, what are you talking about, Murdoc!?”  
“Shut up, why won’t you just shut up, Two Dents?” Murdoc replied, beginning to slide two fingers inside him, jagged, sharp nails surely scratching him. “Why won’t you just shut the fuck up?”

Another panicked whine escaped his mouth, and he dug his nails into the bed sheets. “I don’t want this, Murdoc, I don’t want this. You’re hurting me.”  
As he stared at him, filled with dread, feeling as though his body was covered in worms, he noticed that there was a distinct look of troublesome frustration on Murdoc’s face and it became apparent that the only thing to do was to talk him out of this.  
2-D raised himself painfully onto his hips, all weight resting on his lower back side and hooked his arms around his shoulders. “What’s, what’s happening, Murdoc ? What’s happening ?”  
Murdoc shoved his fingers deeper inside of him, causing 2-D to jerk upwards some and let out something short of a moan. “Why are you doing this ? What’s going on ?”  
“Shut up, Two Dents. This doesn’t involve you.” He grunted out as he yanked his fingers from inside 2-D, small traces of blood trickling out from the scratches his nails had caused.  
“What do you mean this doesn’t involve me you’re raping me, Murdoc, I’d say that involves me quite fucking well !” His voice rose to a higher degree at this point, but Murdoc did flinch at the use of the word ‘raping.’  
“This isn’t the first time, Stu, just settle down.” He muttered, head hanging down to look at his body again. 

“What do you mean by that, what are you talking about ‘isn’t the first time?’” He demanded, arms still draped around his shoulders and noticed the slight drop in Murdoc’s demeanor again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have used the, that word just please, please, let’s not.”  
Murdoc stared back at the boy, and without caution shoved him back against the bed with a loud bang sounding from his head hitting the wood. 2-D quickly arranged himself compactly, hurrying to grab the covers and hugging his knees to his chest. His face became immediately tucked into his pillow, trembling.  
“Oh fuck,” Murdoc groaned. He sat on his knees, staring at Stu as he stroked himself. The confusion and fear of the only person he could really call his best friend was beginning to hit him, and the thrill was lost. Nothing was pleasurable about this. 

He sat down with his back against the headboard, right beside the shaking body of his front man. “Why do you always have to fuck everything up, Dents ? Why have you always got to pitch a fit about the slightest shit?” He complained, rubbing his temples. “You’re always ruining it.”  
“Murdoc, you were trying to have sex with my against my will, I’m bleeding. What else was I supposed to do?” He mumbled back, telling himself that he did nothing wrong.  
“You’re used to it, you wouldn’t have cared, it wouldn’t have mattered.” He pulled the sheets up over himself, staring out at the water.  
2-D shot up with a series of pops to face him. “But I’m not used to it, Murdoc! I’ve never had sex with another man, that’s never happened. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
“Well, I’ve had sex with you.” 

 

The silence that fell after the sentence seemed to have lasted as long as a year in solitary confinement. It wasn’t until Murdoc looked over at 2-D that the silence was broken.  
“You’ve had sex with me?”  
Murdoc stayed silent for a time, eyes still on 2-D before he looked away again. “There’s lots of things you’ll never remember, Dents.”  
“And sex is one of them?”  
“And sex is one of them.” He repeated, watching the ocean stillness. “You were unresponsive, may as well have been dead.” He began. “Figured once, y’know, that. If I couldn’t score with anyone else then it was certainly impossible to not be able to score with a dead body.  
But when I had positioned you there on the couch, naked, bruised, and pink, I felt something different. And when I was inside of you, Stu, you are so warm. It occurred to me you were still alive. But it never stopped me, and it still doesn’t.” 

The confession was a strange one. He spoke with genuine sympathy for his actions, and even seemed solemn about them. He couldn’t help but, despite his confusion and fear, to feel sorry for him. He relaxed against the bed, running his hands up and down his arms.  
“Have you done it do me since?” He asked.  
“Often, when you’ve taken too much and won’t wake up, sometimes for days. I’m there.”  
“Is it just because, because you want sex or … Or because you want me?” He asked, bracing himself for a blow to the head.  
“Well I’ve never had sex with another man. That should answer your question.”  
“That’s a lot to think about, Murdoc.” He nearly whispered.  
“Don’t worry about it, Dents, you won’t even remember it this time next week.”


	2. blood caked with blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murdoc takes what it is he feels he deserves from 2-D in an unconscious state, horribly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. proceed with caution. i promised to not disappoint, but i did not promise a happy continuation. in fact, this is largely more gruesome than the first part. if you've any issues with sexual assault or violence, i'd advise you not to read this. i'm not gonna lie, i'm in this business to bring the painful aspects, and this one's definitely a hard read. 
> 
> in conclusion, murdoc is absolutely horrendous. and there's issues that need to be sorted out emotionally within murdoc that stem from his childhood abuse. good luck !!! title is from xiu xiu's 'el naco'
> 
> sorry !,  
> L x

When the pills Murdoc had forced down 2-D’s throat finally kicked in, he had found himself reaching out towards Murdoc as a means to not fall back. As in his drug induced haze he was under the impression he was falling off his bed and into the ocean, to be devoured entirely by it.   
He clung to Murdoc’s arm until he couldn’t see with his eyes open, and his breathing became so shallow he felt he wasn’t going to survive and he thought ‘finally, finally, an end.’ And then it was gone, everything. The world did not fall apart but instead had disappeared entirely.   
There were deep indentions in Murdoc’s arm from Stuart’s desperate hold, one of which was near bleeding. He knew and understood that a large part of this was still his fault, still his doing, and that he had to take care of Stuart somehow. But it just seemed so impossible when he had shut himself off so far in the distance. But he supposed that, too, was also his fault.   
He’d stay the night there in his bedroom, till he woke up even if that was two days later. But that wasn’t going to stop him from continuing his actions. He still wanted what he hadn’t gotten. 

Regrettably, he pulled 2-D’s near limp body onto his back and situated himself with the other’s legs spread, one dangling off the end of the bed. He ran the rough skin of the palm of his hands up and down Stu’s nude body, taking note of every bruise and potential track marks, innumerable cuts and burns, and they only made him harder.   
He hated it, that these blatant displays of pain made him want it more, but as his erection grew he couldn’t help himself. He used the remaining blood still coming out of his orifice to push himself inside of him, tight and warm how he always liked it. He closed his eyes, hands at his hips and continued on, thinking still of the guilt he harbored for his actions.  
But the guilt wasn’t enough. He leaned down to leave bites, hickies, little cuts with his sharpened teeth all over his body and lapped at his nipples, spoke to him as though he was here.   
“I know, I know, Stu. I know.” He uttered, licking down his stomach down to his waistline and up his cock, which caused a flinch in Stuart that he had been expecting. “I know you like it, you just don’t know it yet.” He told him, and Stuart whined as he pushed himself as deep as he could inside of him, letting out a harsh breath before picking up speed.  
“This is,” a moan. “A special relationship we have, Stuart. It’s, it’s a, it’s a.” He let out a long, overdrawn gasp as he began to shove. “It’s a special secret, Stu, do you understand?” He demanded, smacking the boy’s head upwards.   
“You like this, Dents, you like it.” Were his final words before he proceeded with leaving hickeys on his neck, cuts along his body, and as he felt he was about to come he ran his cock against his stomach and chest and inevitably his mouth, where he forced himself down a struggling throat to come and said breathlessly; “You like me.”

He had stayed on top of him for a while after, thinking over who he was and what he had done, and if these actions overrode all the ones he had committed prior.   
If these late night sexual assaults overrode the kidnapping and the car accidents and numerous other accounts of abuse he’d strung this boy through over the years, and if in the end, it even mattered. There was a slim chance he’d suffer any consequences from this, regardless of if he deserved it, and in a way he felt he deserved to do these things. The universe had fucked him over so often he should have the right to do these things.  
With this thought in mind he ran his tongue over 2-D’s chest and stomach again and reached over the edge of the bed for his knife. Though nails did cut, they didn’t carve, and 2-D was too deep in his forced slumber to awaken from the pain. And if he did? It wouldn’t be any different from any other day he’d suffered through. 

Intricately, he began to work on cutting deep into the skin just under 2-D’s collar bone, which invoked a tense reaction from the boy. Murdoc mumbled several calming nothings, running a hand down his arm as he worked to calm him.   
Every word struck blood and every word he felt was binding and meant he had to stay. _I’ll work on him, I’ll make it so where he can’t leave, spiritually. I’ll put a binding on him, he won’t leave._ He thought to himself as he finished the engraving.

“You love me and I deserve it.” He reads aloud, smirking as he did. Meanwhile, whimpers and incoherent mufflings came from the blue boy’s pink lips. “Tell me you love me,” Murdoc attempted, digging his own nails into his skin.   
“I luh … Mmh …” Came the half words from the boy, whose head was beginning to stir.  
“C’mon, face-ache, tell me you love me. Tell me you love me, I just wanna hear it once.” He pressed, still unsatisfied with what had been delivered. “Just say; ‘I love you, Murdoc.’ Just like that. It’s so easy, talk to me Dents.”   
He pat the side of his face gently, trying to get him conscious enough to speak coherently, or at least to be persuaded to. “Say; ‘I love you, Murdoc.’”  
“I luh … I love you, Murdoc.” He managed, furrowing his brow. 

As he inspected his body, he found what he had done to him, and felt almost instantaneously panicked. Yet quickly, it forcefully subdued and as he noticed the shallowness of 2-d’s breathing, he climbed off of him and under the covers beside him. “I love you, too, Stuart.”

 

  
When 2-D regained his consciousness, it was already nine in the afternoon. He examined his fingernails, some of which contained traces of blood, and then down to his body which had evidently been used while in his sleep. Beside him sat Murdoc, upright against the headboard shirtless with eyes staring straight forwards, into the blue that surrounded his room.   
He was hesitant to move too much, room still spinning from the drugs, and looked up at Murdoc with a pathetic expression.  
“Good afternoon, 2-D.” Murdoc mused, not moving from his position.  
2-D’s fingers ran themselves over his chest, over the carved words underneath his collar bone, and dropped his mouth open. “What’s -”  
“I cleaned up the blood for you, and put some anti-bacterial shit on it so it wouldn’t get infected.” He interrupted, folding his arms across his chest.  
2-D sat up quickly, turning to face him. “We have to have a conversation,” he began, firmly. “We, no, you, have got some issues that we’ve, that we’ve to talk about, okay? ‘Cos, ‘cos this whole, this.” He paused, smacking his lips together to taste his mouth. Murdoc glances over at him, chewing on a nail of his own he’s chewed off during the night.  
“Murdoc, what’s this taste in my mouth? It tastes like, did you, oh my fucking god.” He reached over the edge of the bed, shuffling around bottles to find something to rinse his mouth out with. He washed his mouth out with a half empty bottle of water, spitting it out into an empty red cup. “Did you fucking cum in my mouth?” He demanded, now fully enraged.  
“I plead the fifth on all accounts pressed.” Murdoc replied, calmly.  
“You’ve got some fucking issues, Murdoc, and we’ve to have a proper conversation about this because, because.” He put his fingers over the cuts. “What’s this say, anyway, huh?”  
“I love you and you deserve it.” He muttered, taking one of the half finished cigarettes out of the bed stand ashtray and relighting it. 

Stuart sat there, shocked, mouth still hanging open as he watched Murdoc’s cool demeanor about this situation. Half of him was absolutely livid, half of his was numb, and a portion of him felt a dose of sympathy or compassion for the way Murdoc was expressing himself. _‘I love you and you deserve it’ isn’t a hateful 2-D statement, is it?_ He thought, _that’s a self-hating statement._  
“Why’ve you gotta go about it this way, Muds? Why can’t you just say, ‘2-D, I love you,’ why do you have to go and mutilate me instead? Why can’t we just sort out this love ordeal in con-”  
“Don’t fucking call it ‘love,’ Dents.” He demanded, snapping to face him. “I never said that I fucking ‘loved’ you, you made that up in your stupid head of yours. See? Can’t even tell reality from drug high anymore, a fucking mess you are.”  
“Well maybe you didn’t say it outloud but you sure as fuck said it on me, didn’t you?”  
There was a period of silence there, which hung heavy like the underbelly of a whale, that made Stu’s anxiety gradually skyrocket as it continued. He was amazed at how quick an emotion could overcome someone’s body, and at how slow time could pass. He felt as though in a film. And he wished that the director would call a cut, announce their funding had been revoked, and freed the actors of the awful script. But when Murdoc opened his mouth to speak again, it was evident this wasn’t staged. 

“How do you expect me to express myself kindly when the only thing I know is hatred, huh? It’s, it’s right selfish of you to expect me to be able to react any differently. You know, Stuart, you know. You know how this all fucking goes.” He then, with the flick of a cigarette to the eye, stood up to exit the room.


	3. what's your name ? fuckin' nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for the super late update iv been drowning in my own misery, so it's been fairly hard to strike up a creative urge. i believe this one has more of a depressive tone to it, focuses more on 2d, but i think it's a little shorter. 
> 
> just some updates: there is a blur fic coming as soon as i get the first two chapters completed, i don't really know if there's a market for blur fic what with phase four and all, but i'll tell you it's got blur, justine, and brett all as main "characters." also some suede fic, 'cos i don't think that really exists. so i hope that is something to look forwards to for you all.
> 
> title is from ‘queen of losers’ by xiu xiu.  
> thank you for reading if you are,  
> love you each so very dearly,  
> L x

After the rather startling confession, 2-D had found himself feeling just as high as he had been some many hours ago, except this time relatively sober. He drew his knees to his chest, picking at the skin of his legs as he thought over what Murdoc had confessed.  
He stood, triggering a dizzy spell. He reached out towards Murdoc, who had not yet left the room, and let out a whimper of his name.  
“Muds, Murds, Murdoc, I’m gonna, I’m gonna fall.”’  
Murdoc looked over his shoulder at the boy, who now stood with arms extended out on either side to try and keep himself balanced. 2-D had caught the concern in Murdoc’s face before it went blank as he came to his aid, helping him back down on the bed and sitting besides him uninvited. 

Murdoc situated him against his shoulder for support, in case there was a need to move to throw up. He knew that 2-D lived day by day, and he knew he wasn’t one to talk in matters such as this, but at times he found himself worried that one morning he’d enter his room to find him unresponsive on the bed. Dead in sleep.  
What could have been said for him then? That he’d been a vile cunt who’d fed his mentally disabled front man pills into oblivion, who held no regard for the man who held the looks and possessed the voice that made him famous? He’d be better off dead, like Stu if this kept up.

Interrupting his train of grim thought came 2-D’s weak voice, as politely spoken as he could. “How do I feel?” He asked, and Murdoc looked at him perplexed.  
“What do you mean, Dents?”  
“Well,” he shifted his weight closer to him, placing a long leg over Murdoc’s.”When, when you’re inside of me. When you’re in, when you’re in me does it feel good?”  
“I wouldn’t do it if it didn’t feel good.” He replied, “Plain and simple.”  
“But how does it feel?” He asked again.  
He took a moment to think, to sort out his options for answers, but decided on the truth. “You’re warm. The exact opposite of your exterior, hot, I imagine pinks. Tight, always tight, no matter how much I stretch you out you’re always tight. It feels so good I could melt, sometimes I feel I have.”  
He tried not to smile at the description, which he took as a compliment, and continued. “Do you not try with me when I’m awake because I’m annoying, or ugly? Do you, would I make ugly sounds or not be good, is that, is that why?”  
“You’re not ugly, 2-D. We couldn’t have an ugly frontman.” He grumbled, as though it were obvious.

“But do you think I’m ugly?” He asked again, this time with a sense of anxiety in his voice. “You can see me through other … Through other people, how and if they think I’m attractive. But if, if you take the worldly binoculars off and see me through you, am I ugly?”  
When Murdoc looked down at him he noticed how fragile he seemed, even his shoulder bones were protruding from beneath his skin which seemed to be showing signs of yellowing. His heart sunk at the thought of illness bestowing itself upon 2d, feeling as though there was an end coming near. As he examined his body he found the holes in his arms, surrounded by a slight redness, only about three or four overall from what he could see of just his arms — few enough for him to be able to kick the skag if that’s what the perpetrator was. He was also littered with bruises all over his body, and one particularly nasty one going across his lower abdomen as though he had been forced over an edge that had a watercolor effect to it. Yellows and purples mixing and expanding like a belt over his lower stomach, and perhaps most concerning were the cuts and burns of all sizes and amounts across his thin body. Burns from cigarettes were around his neck like a collar, trailing down his arms and even collarbone. Cuts bared their bloodiness on his thighs, not yet tended to and some still bleeding from what he assumed was Stuart’s nervous scratching. These scars continued to reopen the longer the days drew on. 

And, although deeply ashamed, he found the mess of a body beautiful. He didn’t want to comment on the mess, the self harm and signs of abuse from other lovers, for fear of perhaps encouraging the behavior. But dear God, was it gorgeous to behold. Thoughtlessly he ran his fingernails gently down the arm closest to his, feeling the rise and fall of the burns and cuts as 2d waited patiently for an answer he already knew.  
Yet after some time of Murdoc running his fingers around his skin, he became fearful of the delay in reply. “Murdoc?” He asked.  
“Hmfm?” He sounded, flattening a hand against 2D’s chest to softly run his palm down his body.  
“Do you think I’m attractive?” He asked again.  
“Definitely …” He mused, seeming distracted.  
“Would you maybe have me conscious some time?” He suggested, “Or when I want to, maybe, if I ask.”  
“Yeah, yeah, sure.” He muttered, obviously consumed by something else, and sunk down some to suck on 2D’s neck.  
He knew he wouldn’t listen immediately, understood that if anything got done it would get done slowly and with much forced conversation, that Murdoc would take what he wanted regardless. He was just a cardboard cutout of a human being turned into a sex toy. His existence was minor, floating about the world without impacting anything around it. He was hollow. And as Murdoc’s lips went further and further down, he could feel himself forgetting his identity.  
He could see Murdoc doing what he did, regardless of the brief talk they’d just had, but couldn’t feel what his body was somewhat reacting to in the sensitive areas his lips it. He looked up, at the ceiling, and found new cracks in it’s plaster to hide in. He imagined himself as small as ant, able to hide away between the plaster and wood. Or a fly on the wall watching the scene as it went down methodically, as all things were just a lesson in accuracy. There were certain ways to do things, certain ways to feel, certain kinds of people to be. And he was none of them.  
It’d been so engraved into his brain that he was of no worth, just a model of an attractive position in a band by someone who had shown off and on care for him but mostly just hate. And it went on. Murdoc’s hands were at his hips, going down towards his thighs to feel the bulk of cuts like the back of a sewn table cloth against his palms which he then began to lick. He knew this was happening, but with no discernible reason as to why it was he felt like he was sinking lower. Murdoc couldn’t have meant all those things he said when he told him he was attractive. He must have been lying. He wanted it to be the truth, for him to be finally approved or seen as good or useful. He wanted his validation, for all the lonely times spent in fun fairs and between buildings in their alley ways he still wanted the approval of the man who kept hurting him.  
_Maybe I’ve got Stockholm Syndrome,_ he thought, a notion that was immediately dismissed by Murdoc’s voice in his head saying: _‘Don’t be idiotic. You wouldn’t know it if you did, face ache, and even then you most certainly don’t – you’re too daft to even be that stupid.’_


	4. you were beautiful when i loved you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> extremely graphic & probably not suitable for most readers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first fic back from a so far not completely ended hiatus, this was one of my most popularly demanded fics to be updated, and i decided that tonight i should update it due to a series of deeply troubling flashbacks.  
> i wanted to clarify that this fic was started as a means of coping from a traumatising experience i had endured at around the time of the first chapters publication. as those of you who have gone through hard times now, the pain sometimes come in waves. this is one of those waves, and i felt the best way to work through it was to express it in characters that i do deeply love.
> 
> this chapter is somewhat lighter than the previous ones, but with the severity of the past chapters it still may be a bit harder to swallow. i'll try my best to update this as soon as possible, but in any case here is something. 
> 
> title from "gray death" by xiu xiu.  
> thank you for reading, please let me know your thoughts.  
> L X

It was endless. The thumping in his head had become a much bigger issue than he had previously imagined, but then again before now the thuds were placed in the cracks above his head. The pain was all to real now.  
He lifted his head from the pillow, seeing stars as he glanced around the bedroom for signs of life. Even his pulse felt weak in this silence. Murdoc had gone, slinked away into some crevice of the supposed mansion he had yet to see the entirety of, and had left him feeling empty.  
As his senses flooded back to him he felt a distinct pain originating from his pelvic area & reached down beneath the sheets to feel himself. He had been bleeding, there was blood patterning the insides of his thighs, creeping up around his genitals like it had been spread. Once having lifted the sheet to get a better view of himself, he found deep scratch marks going down from his hips to his inner thighs. They were of a certain width that implied a sharp, pointed object, and as he fought to recall the moments prior to his consciousness he registered them as the marks left by Murdoc’s claws. 

He was resigned to silence, knowing full well he could not cleanse himself of these wounds until his captor had reappeared and let out a breath as if to signal defeat to God. There was nothing left to do.  
2-D slowly pulled himself up out of bed, nude skin being met harshly by the coldness of the underwater air. It was sickening to him to think he had winded up in this state. He was working a normal job, he was living a life that perhaps was not larger than the gift of existence but at least something to call a living. Now he was barely breathing, shaking as he undid the lid of the pill bottle marked Alprazolam 2mg. He knew very well that two bars was not enough to lead him to blissful peace, but he hoped that it would at least dilute his senses to a degree that ended the pain he felt all over his body.  
“California …” He began to sing, voice sounding like an echo due to the essence of undeniable fragility which resided within it. 

Slowly he approached the fibre glass walls which separated his world from that of the vast ocean, pressing his hands and face against the coldness of the glass.  
“Oh, ocean now … I come again before you.” He ran his hands down the wall, slightly digging his nails into it as he began to delicately press the entirety of his his body against it. The cold sent a shiver down his spine and he could feel his member against the barrier.  
“Road along with you …” He extended his arm up against the wall, resting a hand firmly a top it. His distant eyes gazed up at the light which still miraculously shone so far down in the water. “In the slipping of the sun …”  
He was weak, he knew this, he could feel his muscles begin to soften the longer he held himself upright and without full understanding began to slide down the glass and onto the soft carpeted floors. 

“Sun on dreamers … Repeat the faithful once again …” He draped his long fingers across his eyes as he attempted to breathe for fresh air, pausing for a long time to feel his nude body sink into the fibres of the carpet. “Like water on the mountains, that … that it’s the slipping of the sun …” The blood from his anus was beginning to bleed out into the carpet, he felt as though he was defecating, yet knew that there had been something inside of him which did not belong there. Something far removed from the member of another man, something much more sharp and even something burning. 

 

Far above the prison that he kept his desecrated distant lover was being held in, Murdoc sat at a desk observing his movements, listening carefully to his words. He had left blood smeared on the glass to his room, and as he studied Stu’s body on the monitor he realised he was caked in blood near his cock and pelvis.  
He let out a disgruntled sigh, irritated with his decision the night before the sodomise the boy with cigarettes and candle stands alike. He wanted to punish him for making him fall so deeply in admiration for him.  
After had begun to get intimate with him again, he recalls the resentment he felt towards his ensuing unconsciousness and took it upon himself to defile the boy for being so beautiful. He wanted to, in his fit of frustration, take the thing which made him the most appealing away from him. He had shoved what he could inside of him, he had bloodiest the bedsheets, he had shown his true colours. But unfortunately, he figured, Stuart must still want answers.  
_And he deserves them,_ he thought to himself. _He ought to know what I did to him._

So with mild annoyance he raised himself up off of seat, bringing with him wipes and a wet towel. He made no noise as he entered Stu’s room, figuring that the boy would be too far into his own head to hear him.  
As he leaned down before him, wet towel in one hand, he spread his legs apart to examine the mess he had made of the man’s pale skin.  
Stuart had forced his upper body upwards, propping himself up by his elbows to see what it was Murdoc had begun to do. The sight of himself sent a shockwave through his body, his lower half looked like the scene of a murder. “What are you doing to me ?” He forced out.  
“I’m cleaning you, Dents, what do you think ?” He snapped back, brows furrowed with focus as he raised 2-D’s hips up to run the cold towel from his cheeks down to the spaces beside his genitals. He was gentler than Stu had imagined he would be, and a bath was certainly not something he could object to.  
Murdoc’s jagged nails would occasionally scrape against the softness of his skin as worked to clean him, rubbing the blood out from between his buttocks out to his inner thighs. He was being careful, that much Stuart could tell, and when the towel, wrapped around Murdoc’s hand found its way running up the shaft of 2D’s cock he shuddered, closing his eyes tightly.  
He mustn’t object if he ever desired to be clean again. 

“May I ask what it is you had done to me ?” He whimpered out, eyes still closed as he felt the towel run up to his hips.  
“I had first taken a cigarette,” He began, switching to the baby wipes for the finishing touches. “And I lit it, inserted it inside of you to burn what was inside. I wanted to make you more unappealing than you already are.”  
2D flinched, hard, but kept silent in fear of Murdoc potentially reacting negatively.  
“I had been inside of you, disgusted with what it was I was attracted to. Your ashtray of a body made me want you more, and I needed to end that.” 2D thought of the confession Murdoc had made to him. Wondered if those words were really true, and if they were if Murdoc was just trying to deny his own sexuality by assaulting the only thing he had found beautiful.  
“I didn’t want to be attracted to something so hard on the eyes, so I decided to make you as painful to look at as the pain you were in.” He began to wipe away the blood in the crevices of his body, sure to still run his fingertips along the soft spots of Stuart’s skin. “So I took the candelabra that was in the hall, brang it here, and inserted one of it’s arms into you, turned. I wanted it to hurt but.” And then he paused. 

This information was hard enough for him to handle as it was, hearing the things that had happened to him repeated back was almost more horrifying than the pain he felt afterwards. He could only imagine what it was Murdoc was thinking of, and the severity of it.  
“But I couldn’t handle the thought of how much it must have hurt you.” He spat out with all the hesitance and contempt he felt for himself. He figured it would be best to be open, as he had already exposed himself just days prior. He wouldn’t be telling him something that he didn’t already know, so what was the harm ?  
“I couldn’t handle the thought that I was mutilating the only thing that had brought me some relief from the disgusting fucking things that fall onto me.” It was then that he had stopped, closing the packet of wipes beside him and looked up at 2D, who was staring at him with those wide abysses of eyes.  
It was comforting in a weird way, what Murdoc had said. He had liked him enough to feel guilt for his actions, he stopped hurting him. And beyond just that, he had admitted to him that he was a form of relief. In his eyes, despite the monstrosities he had committed to him, that was better than any other thing he had been told in his life. 

“And what will you do now ?” Stuart asked, voice shaking still from the anxiety.  
Murdoc looked at him with a much deeper gaze than any he had given him in their years since meeting, and with some hesitance leaned forwards over Stu’s body to lock their lips in a slow kiss. When he had moved away, he looked at him once more before saying; “I had heard you singing. I have some toys for ye.”


End file.
